


Whiskey and Cream

by CaricaturesOfIntimacy



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-11 16:54:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10469757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaricaturesOfIntimacy/pseuds/CaricaturesOfIntimacy
Summary: In which everyone is an angsty writer.





	1. First

            I left a poem on the message board of History, just like I do on every message board I’d seen in the literary underground the past seven-odd months. It was a little on the disturbing side –it was meant for someone who would never look at me. He’d never read it, and we’ve seen each other all of one time. Only he knew what I meant, and only I knew he was the lone person who understood.

            He was –is one of the secrets I keep. One of the few things that make my life a little more exciting. Home, school, poetry, and then him. -him, his confusing ocean eyes, the semi-permanent tang of cinnamon, the sexual innuendos, and the golden fountain pen. He was always one night spent and a thousand words spoken. He was elusive. He was today. He was tomorrow. He was the faint scent of cherry in the tangy, oaky smell of pinot noir, the flitting shadow of an angel wing. I didn’t know what to make of him. He says the sweetest things, and yet I could see in his eyes, a confusion that was unlike his confidence. Viktor Nikiforov was an enigma. But no, it didn’t do to think about him too much. Not when he made it clear that even if we were to see each other again, it wouldn’t be for a long time. Not until I gave in. Not until I was desperate for something I can never remember.

            Something.

            I held on to the hope of that something.

           

_The room was half-alight –the blinds were partly open and the air conditioning was turned up. It was late night, and Viktor knew he should be on the road and driving, but he made a promise to stay the night, and then stay even longer . And he did, but was now regretting the decision internally because the dark-haired man-child(that was how he was acting, anyway) was now being stubborn._

_“Close your eyes,” Viktor muttered, brushing a strand of stray hair from the other’s face. He could feel the softness of his jaw against his fingers as he continued the trail down his temple and neck. In turn, Yuuri pulled him closer and laid his head on his chest. Viktor inhaled deeply. Yuuri smelled like aftershave, beer, and the tiniest hint of cinnamon –the combination was heady enough to lull Viktor into some kind of reverie without the steady rise and fall of the other man’s chest against him as he breathed. Yet he still hummed a little tune under his breath as if he was singing the Russian to sleep. “Just close them and sleep.”_

_“Don’t go,” Yuuri said, probably for the fiftieth time that night. Viktor was feeling stupid for making him ask so desperately. Indeed, he knew Yuuri would have gripped him tight and begged on his hands and knees if he thought it would help._

_“I won’t. At least not for the next eight hours.” Viktor’s voice was slurring from near-sleep and one-too-many shots of alcohol. “For now, I’m with you, and you should sleep. After you go and close the blinds.”_

_He could barely see his brown eyes against the yellow light streaming in from the street, but he knew Yuuri wasn’t closing them. He was watching , as always –just as Viktor had been watching him. Yuuri  always treated Viktor like a well-mannered hurricane._

_"Are you about to watch me sleep again, Yuuri?”_

_“You know I can’t sleep with lights streaming in like that,” he insisted. But he left the blinds open and continued staring with a slight smile. “Good night, Viktor.”_

_Viktor couldn’t believe he’d turned the tables like that, but he closed his eyes and murmured, already half-asleep, knowing Yuuri would hear the words no matter how softly he spoke. “I won’t come back for a long time. But there’s always something, Yuuri.”_ He would know I said it because I meant it, and I hope he’d remember it after I leave.


	2. Second

           

* * *

 

           “Thank you for coming,” came a voice from the stage, jarring me out of contemplation. See, this is what happens when I think about him too much. But now Yurio was starting their program and I was going to get it big time if I wasn’t there visibly supporting every and all pieces being spoken. Writer’s vanity. They always seem to need constant attention.

            I made my way to the stage, through black-clad and tattooed bodies of amateur writers who liked to think their fake forced angst would contribute some value to their words. They probably did at some level, but I wasn’t so sure I understood exactly what that value was. All I tended to hear was a series of dark thoughts and inappropriate ideas disguised as art.

            “Who’s that, Yuratchka?”

            “Hey, Yuuri. Good to see you here tonight.”

            “Yura!”

             People threw greetings our way as Yurio met me near the open floor of the bar. He was as different from the crowd as anyone could be –like a single white rose on dry, coarse sand. Of course I mean that literally. I was surprised he managed to thrive and bloom when he was a dot of white on a sea of earth tones and black. He was as prickly and just as beautiful. Hilarious how those words could seem so full of imagery now.

             And Viktor, he hadn’t fit in either –but his stance made it so nobody gave him any grief for it. The crowd was starting to press closer on us, and I could feel myself sweating.

             “It’s my. Er, friend, Japanese Yuuri.” Yurio finally said after seven inquiries about who I was. “Oi, Katsudon. You speaking for us tonight?” He’d always try to get me to speak onstage. I never did.

             Several jealous girls and boys threw glances my way, which was slightly disturbing because everybody knew the girlish boy was Yuratchka, and aside from being salty 99.97% of the time, he was underage. The younger boy noticed my antipathy and looked towards the source of my discomfort.

            “People these days,” he sniffed. “They’d even try sniffing flowers in people’s attics if they were attractive enough.”

            I didn’t understand the reference, but smiled indulgently because he obviously found it hilarious. What was not hilarious, however, was that Yurio was slowly steering me towards the stage. I shook my head and started to give a thumbs down, but someone behind me gave a gentle shove.

_Fuck. I knew I shouldn’t have come on open mic night._     

            There was several seconds of commotion and pushing before I found myself facing the spotlight with a nervous smile plastered on my face. Everybody who’d come up here always seemed to know what they were going to say. I was drawing a huge pile of blanks. If I were a penis, nobody would be getting pregnant anytime soon.

 

* * *

 

            _“You want to get out of here?”_

_Viktor looked up in surprise. Yuuri, who normally said nothing to start a conversation, had suddenly stood up and grabbed his windbreaker. He could owe it to the fact that he was still slightly hammered. The younger man looked a little unnerved before picking up his own dark Armani coat and handing it to Viktor. “What?”_

_The other man shrugged. “If I have to listen to another one of these people talk about their penises in obscure metaphors, I’ll die.” Viktor winced, but the expression was gone as soon as it had appeared._

_“Sure. Probably best.” Viktor stood up, casting a look at Yurio who was busy talking to people near the front of the stage. The boy very visibly flipped a finger at him and made a dismissive motion, which thankfully, Yuuri did not see. Not that he have gotten anything except rudeness if he had._

_In two minutes they were stumbling out the door, Viktor on a caffeine-alcohol high, and Yuuri in a near-drunken haze that he hadn’t realized he was in until he was standing up and walking –well, failing to walk straight. With a particularly violent sway, he nearly face-planted on the sidewalk –thankfully, his hand was grabbed and pulled back by something: someone._

_Viktor helped him straighten up, his hand wrapped warmly within Yuuri’s. The night was dark, and the bus stop was thirty feet away: it would have taken exactly thirty seconds to walk there, but they slowed down to what would have been an excruciating pace. But it was comfortable._

_“Do you want to come home with me?” Yuuri asked._

_And Viktor, he knew he shouldn’t. There was a reason he never forced Yuuri to talk to him again after the Japanese man had confessed to him and forgotten about it. To wrap himself around the younger man wasn’t it. But every reason he shouldn’t was thrown out the window when he felt Yuuri’s hand tighten around his._

_“Yeah. Yeah, sure.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I suppose I should thank those who read the first chapter.  
> I hope you continue to support this.


	3. End

            “Do _Lieto Fine_ ,” Yurio mumbled, climbing the stage behind me.

            The words came without any resistance and I recited the lines I’d scribbled on a napkin so many nights ago -

 

_It would always start with a touch._

_When the lights go down._

_Just a little caress:_

_I tuck your hair behind your ear_

_You trace your fingers on my face_

_And pretend everyone else_

_Didn’t exist._

_I would press my cheek_

_To your hand,_

_Slip my fingers in your hair._

_And I would tell you_

_How soft it felt._

_Like velvet._

_Alive but cold._

_Stay,_

_Stay your hand, then_

_Pull me close._

_Stop._

_Close your eyes._

_Tilt my head up_

_And meet me halfway,_

_Lips against yielding lips._

_Kiss me for the first time_

_Like we were in a movie._

_Soft._

_Hungry._

_Passionate._

_Make me remember._

_Make me forget._

_Make it seem_

_Like time would_

_never catch us._

_Just pull me close._

_Take it fast._

_Do it slow._

_With stolen moments like this,_

_Every second counts._

_When the lights turn on,_

_And I open my eyes_

_Your whisper_

_Still echoes in my mind._

_“Come closer.”_

_It would always end with a touch_

_So real, yet still isn’t._

_You aren’t mine._

_And I will never be yours._

_Not in the dark._

_nor every morning after._

 

 

            I stopped to take a breath.

            Nobody got it. probably. But there was a whisper of polite applause so newbies would think they missed something profound. But the more profound the words, the less people saw. My words were vague as always. I remember someone told me once that the only way I could seduce people with my words is if I felt how it was to be tempted. I had, but I wanted to keep all the vivid imagery to myself. Ironic.

            That was when it happened.

            “Did it really feel like that?”

            I would know that voice anywhere –the smooth, drawling baritone with just the barest hint of a Russian accent. It had been some time, but I knew. And I couldn’t believe he was there. Finally, really there standing in front of me. and there I was, looking down on the floor, at his shiny brown boots and the crisp hems of his dark pants. His feet stood apart as if he was bracing himself for something.

            “You remember,” Viktor murmured, his expression undefinable.

            I felt warmth creep up my face, and it had nothing to do with the weather. I started to say something, but he spoke again.

            “Yuuri.”

            “Viktor,” I answered, finally looking up into his green eyes.

            He smiled fondly. “It’s taken me a long time. But I love you, too.”

 

_“I love you, Viktor.”_

_Viktor had his face between his hands. The brown-eyed man’s eyes were closed, as if willing his own words away.  Taking advantage of the current vulnerability, Viktor leaned down to press a light kiss on his lips instead of answering. At least it was supposed to be a light kiss, until one of them –Viktor wasn’t sure who, turned hungry. Hungry and desperate. Pretty soon it was a tangle of limbs –the desire and despair rolling off them in tangible waves._

_Because this one felt different. This goodbye meant something else –something other the presence or lack of the promise of a return and neither of them was sure they wanted  the next reunion if it existed. Not that the younger guy would remember anything in the morning save a drunken haze._

_“Viktor,” Yuuri breathed as soon as they came up for air._

_“Yuuri.”_

_And then the younger boy’s eyes closed in an alcoholic sleep. And Viktor walked away._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this ends it!  
> Thank you to everyone who read it, and to everyone who is still reading it.  
> Sorry it got a bit confusing, but please look forward to the next story!

**Author's Note:**

> Well! It's my first entry at AO3, and I'm being an ambitious little chicken by starting a series based on the YOI-verse. Still a little shaky, and I'm basically test-drafting with this first one, but I hope you guys enjoy it!


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